Nothing Unexpected
by oneship
Summary: What would it be like if one or the other decided to break the decades' old orbit one day? No fuss, no muss, no near-death epiphanies - just coffee, croissants, and a question all PC fans wanted to see asked on-screen.
1. Chapter 1

Beverly Crusher strode out of the turbolift and headed for her erstwhile breakfast companion's. She stared at the data streaming across the PADD in her hands as her feet carried her, out of habit, around the bend in the corridor.

She didn't break her stride when she reached the captain's doors. The dark beige barrier opened with a soft hiss as soon as she entered sensor range.

Beverly didn't think twice about the unspoken message behind his having granted her carte blanche access to his quarters each morning. They ate breakfast together every morning. He expected her to arrive. She expected to be granted entry. Why stand on a foolish ceremony where one party asks for—and waits—pretending to worry about whether the permission will be granted?

Not when both parties have been friends for more than two decades.

"Good morning, Jean-Luc," she said as she continued her swift progress. She made a beeline for the dining table and lowered herself into her usual chair without taking her eyes from her PADD.

"Doctor," Picard replied by way of greeting.

She glanced up from her reading and met his gaze. His eyes twinkled as she watched him studying her over the rim of his coffee cup. Grinning in response, she shut off the PADD and turned her attention to her host.

"How are you this morning?" she asked.

"Fine," he replied. "And you?"

Beverly opened her mouth to reply, "Fine," and then paused.

 _No_ , she thought. _I'm not fine. I want something. I want_ more.

She closed her mouth and her grin faded as she followed the thought to its logical conclusion.

"Doctor?" Jean-Luc asked, concern lacing his voice. "Beverly?"

"Are we expecting to encounter an ion storm, quantum filament, or other spatial anomaly today?" she asked.

Jean-Luc blinked at her non-sequitur. He shook his head and responded, "No, Doctor. The Xarses nebula is harmless. We're on a routine mapping mission. Nothing out of the ordinary is expected."

"No mysterious aliens?" she asked. "Doppelgangers, shape-shifters, unscrupulous or omnipotent beings planning on toying with us for their amusement?"

"Beverly, what is this about?"

Beverly inhaled and ran a hand through her hair. "It's just I think I'm about to do something potentially ill-advised—reckless even—and I was hoping…"

Jean-Luc chuckled. "You're hoping fate will step in and save you from yourself?"

"It was worth a shot," she replied with a shrug.

Jean-Luc leaned forward. "What are you planning that's so dangerous I ought to order the ship to red alert to prevent it from occurring?"

Beverly licked her lips and quickly re-evaluated her initial thought.

 _Yes, I definitely want more, and I'm tired of denying myself_.

Failing to find any new reasons not to follow through with her original—albeit poorly conceived—plan, she met Jean-Luc's slightly wary gaze and said, "I was thinking about Data's concert in Ten Forward this evening."

Jean-Luc's eyebrows rose. "You don't want to attend Mr. Data's performance?"

"No," Beverly said, shaking her head. "I very much want to go."

"Doctor, I'm afraid I'm having difficulty following your logic."

Beverly sighed and decided to be more forthright. "Jean-Luc, will you go to Data's concert with me?"

She fidgeted with the cloth napkin resting on her breakfast plate and forced herself to watch him and wait for his reaction.

"Doctor… Beverly," Jean-Luc replied, uttering each syllable with care and deliberation. "I would hate to presume—or insinuate that I am taking our friendship for granted—however I've been under the impression for several years now that each of us holds the honour of being the unspoken companion of the other for official functions and events such as this evening. Barring any spatial anomalies or unscrupulous aliens, I fully expected we would attend the concert together."

"No," Beverly replied. "I mean, yes, your impression is correct, but not in this situation."

Jean-Luc tilted his head, clearly puzzled.

Her hands trembled as she set them in her lap, and she took a settling breath before continuing. "I don't want you to accompany me to the concert as per our unspoken understanding. I'm asking you personally—as a woman to a man—to come _with_ me."

Jean-Luc blinked.

Beverly set a croissant on her plate and picked at the flaky pastry while she waited for Jean-Luc to speak. She watched him from under her lashes as he struggled to process her request.

"Beverly, are you…?" Jean-Luc began and then halted. He cleared his throat. "Forgive me, but are you asking me…?"

"On a date?" she said, finishing the sentence for him.

Jean-Luc blushed and raised his hands defensively. She bit her lip, realizing her years of keeping him at arms length had taught him to fear any suggestions she might make about changing the nature of their relationship.

"I hope I haven't jumped to the wrong conclusion here," he said. "You know how deeply I value our friendship, and I would never intentionally do anything to—"

"Yes, Jean-Luc," Beverly said, cutting him off before he could apologize for having done nothing wrong. She decided he deserved to hear her unequivocal answer. "I'm asking you out on a date."


	2. Chapter 2

Jean-Luc stared at the woman seated across from him and employed every ounce of self-control he possessed to avoid gaping at her like a beached cod.

"Beverly," he began, unsure of how to phrase things as his own mind spun in a thousand directions. "You are aware of certain underlying, uh, implications of asking…" he began.

He inhaled and tried again, "Rather, there are assumptions that might be made by one party that, while common expectations among most parties, may not be, uh, the case between us—"

He stopped and shook his head before adding in a rush, "I don't mean to sound patronizing, but are you sure you know what you're asking?"

He desperately needed to know she understood the implications of her words. The scrupulously ignored attraction they'd harboured for one another was challenging enough to sublimate into a platonic friendship. He didn't think he could handle being toyed with in such a forthright manner.

Beverly smiled and nodded.

"I certainly hope so," she replied. "Granted, it's been quite some time since I've asked a man out on a date, but I'm fairly confident the act still means what it meant five, ten, or even twenty-five years ago."

"Then, yes," he said, realizing—belatedly—that he hadn't answered her question. "I would be honoured to be your date for this evening's concert."

Beverly's smile widened, and her shoulders dropped as she reached for the coffee carafe and poured herself a cup. His mind had been so clouded by his own confusion and disbelief he hadn't noticed the tension in her posture until she relaxed.

"Excellent," she said. "I'll pick you up at 2000 hours?"

"I'll be ready," he replied.

Beverly checked her chronometer and then stood.

"I'm sorry, Jean-Luc," she said. "As much as I'd love to stay, I need to get down to Sickbay."

He nodded and rose from his chair. He walked her to his door and smiled as she stopped just out of sensor range.

"I know I haven't given you any reason for this, ah, request," she said, blushing slightly. "And I can't say that I fully understand, myself, what possessed me to even bring the possibility up."

"Beverly, there's no need—"

"But I want you to know," she said as she placed a hand on his chest, effectively shutting him up. "It was asked in full awareness of the potential possibilities, and with one hundred percent sincerity."

Her hand burned like fire against his sternum. He forced himself to remember that had she placed her hand on his chest not even five minutes previously, he would have thought little of it; treated it as nothing more than the platonic gesture it was.

He cleared his throat and nodded, accepting her words.

She studied him for a moment longer, peering into his soul with her piercing blue eyes. She rummaged about inside his skull and, seemingly satisfied he believed the truth of her words, flashed him a cheeky grin before pulling her hand away and resuming course for the door.

"2000 hours, Jean-Luc," she said. "Don't be late."

He pressed his own hand over his heart and gasped in mock horror. "Late? Doctor, I would never dream of keeping my date waiting."

She flashed him a mischievous grin and then strode out the doors to his quarters. He waited for the doors to seal before exhaling and returning to the breakfast table.

He sat with a sigh.

Beverly Crusher had always been an enigma to him. And, like any worthy puzzle, he'd never found a way to temper his fascination with her. However, he had, after thirty years, begun to believe he'd solved at least a few of her mysteries.

 _Or, perhaps not_ , he mused, grinning.

He gave himself a mental shake. It wouldn't do for him to show up on the bridge smiling like a simpleton.

He picked up his coffee cup and took a considering sip before checking his chronometer. He stood and cleared the dishes, forcing himself to focus on his mental list of the day's duties instead of dwelling on the utterly remarkable turn of events.

Fortunately for him, he hadn't lied to her earlier. The _Enterprise_ was on a routine mapping mission of the Xarses nebula.

With no emergencies in sight, there would be ample time throughout the day to analyse their conversation.


	3. Chapter 3

Beverly sat behind her desk and reviewed her chief nurse's report on the handling of the containment breach in xenobiology lab two. Nurse Ogawa's report was precise and, to Beverly's delight, it was also concise. All the pertinent details were included, and no time was wasted on irrelevant or extraneous information.

Beverly caught a glimpse of her reflection in the glass of her computer screen and gave her head an indulgent shake when she noticed her lips curled in a tiny smile.

 _Had it really been that simple?_ she asked herself.

Three decades of knowing, six years of serving on the same ship, too many lost friends, a lost husband, a thousand arguments about the Prime Directive, almost as many breakfasts, and it all boiled down to a question both had asked any number of partners over the years.

" _Will you go to [insert event] with me_?"

"And why not?" she muttered. _We're just like any other two people who find one another attractive_.

Except, they weren't.

A worm of doubt wriggled in her gut and she closed the file on her screen with more force than strictly necessary.

"No," she whispered. "We are _just_ people."

"Doctor?" Nurse Ogawa asked, her voice cutting through Beverly's internal conversation.

Beverly looked up to find her head nurse smiling at her from the doorway.

"Alyssa?" Beverly replied.

"I don't know which people may or may not be 'just' people," Alyssa said, "but it's time for one person to quit working and leave her office for the day."

Beverly glanced at the chronometer and raised her eyebrows in surprise at how quickly the day had flown. She sighed and pushed her chair away from her desk.

"Thank you for your well-written report," Beverly said as she stood and moved past her desk. "Despite the nature of the content, it was a pleasure to read."

Alyssa's smile widened. "Thank you, Doctor."

Beverly's thoughts flickered across her plans for the evening and she pressed a hand against her abdomen to quell the rising butterflies.

 _We're just people_.

Beverly hung her lab coat on the hook next to the entrance to her office and walked into the main area of Sickbay. Alyssa remained at her side, and Beverly wondered if her nurse were staying with her to ensure she actually left her domain and didn't slip back into her office to work through the second shift.

 _No need to worry about that happening tonight_.

"Good night, Alyssa," Beverly said as the main doors whooshed open.

"Good night, Doctor."

Beverly fingered the three pips on her collar as she strode into the corridor and headed for her quarters.

While it wouldn't be unusual for her to wear her uniform to Data's performance—she readily acknowledged she and Jean-Luc used their uniforms as a subtle barrier between themselves and others—she wanted to change into civilian clothing for the concert.

Beverly knew the power of wardrobe choice.

If she wanted Jean-Luc to see her as a woman she couldn't very well pick him up dressed as Doctor—or Commander—Beverly Crusher, CMO of the _USS Enterprise_.

Beverly entered her quarters and nearly giggled in girlish anticipation. She reminded herself she was far too mature—not _old_ —and far too senior an officer to primp and preen to attract the attention of a prospective mate.

She tried to hold to her self-remonstrance and failed. The excitement bubbling up from her stomach and setting her blood buzzing refused to accept the notion of restraint. This was new territory: new feelings, new possibilities, new everything.

Feeling almost like a teenager again, Beverly opened the doors to her closet and rummaged through her selection of civilian attire. Settling on a wide-necked sweater that had a nasty habit of falling off one shoulder, she moved into her bathroom to complete her toilette.

 _All right_ , she admitted in giddy defeat. _Maybe just a little bit of primping_.


	4. Chapter 4

Jean-Luc surveyed his reduced-crew bridge and sighed in satisfaction. With no planned diplomatic stops—the Xarses nebula was reportedly empty of life-sustaining planets—Deanna Troi was using her duty time to focus on her counselling load, leaving the seat to his left vacant.

The seat on his right, normally occupied by his executive officer, Will Riker, was also vacant. Roughly two hours into their shift, Jean-Luc had suggested Will touch base with Geordi to see if the engineer had time to work on the shuttle navigation improvements the two had hypothesized were possible when the topic came up for discussion at one of the senior officers' meetings earlier in the week. Obviously glad to be doing something other than staring at a starfield, Will had leapt at the opportunity, and hadn't been seen since.

Jean-Luc enjoyed the solitude of the centre of the bridge. It allowed him to focus on the data streaming into his armrest without distraction. Despite his reputation as a diplomat and skilled tactician, he was an explorer at heart. Viewing the nebula first-hand, and taking in the raw data from the initial readings, was a prime example of what had driven him off Earth and into the stars all those decades ago.

The vista of swirling gasses as stars were born and died filled the forward view screen. Nature's incredible dance of colour and shadow seemed to move to a music of its own. The raw beauty threatened to take Jean-Luc's breath away, and he wished—not for the first time—he could hear the melody of the universe that underscored the dance.

"Sir, I'm getting statistically significant readings from the radiation signature of one of the pulsars in the nebula," Lieutenant Commander Data said, from his position at Ops. "Astrophysics is requesting a course change to investigate."

Jean-Luc entered two commands into his arm rest and scanned the relevant data.

"Granted," he replied. He, too, was curious to see what made this pulsar so unique. "Helm, lay in a course for Pulsar X91-00B."

"Aye, sir," the helmsman replied. His fingers flew over the panel as he added, "Course laid in, sir."

"Engage."

The view of the nebula shifted as the ship altered course, taking the great ship deeper into the swirling aurora of colours.

"Magnificent," Jean-Luc whispered.

"Sir?" Data asked, swiveling his seat to face the captain.

"Nothing to concern yourself over, Mr. Data," Jean-Luc replied. "I was simply caught up in the majesty of the spectacle unfolding before us."

"It is remarkable, sir."

"Indeed, Data."

Jean-Luc inhaled and bit back a smile as he recalled breakfast. He'd also referred to Beverly's unexpected request as something remarkable. He checked the chronometer in his armrest and stood.

"Mr. Data, you have the bridge," Jean-Luc said as he headed for his ready room.

"Aye, sir."

The doors to his sanctuary closed behind him as he strode over to the replicator and said, "Tea, Earl Grey. Hot."

The beverage shimmered into existence and Jean-Luc took a sip with a contented sigh. Rather than sitting behind his desk, Jean-Luc took his tea and sat on the sofa lining the far wall.

Just under an hour remained in his duty shift, and for the first time since arriving on the bridge, Jean-Luc gave himself permission to let his mind wander away from his duties and onto his best friend, breakfast companion, and now, potentially something more.

Not even the intense heat of the tea as it coursed down his throat could dispel the smile that tugged at his lips.

He had no idea what the impetus behind her decision to change the nature of their relationship was, and he resolved not to dwell on wondering why – nor on worrying about 'what if'. He would approach their date with the goal of living only in the present.

Like a fine vintage, he would appreciate each sip and not begrudge the quantity of liquid in the glass or how quickly it disappeared. Whether Beverly wanted a deeper relationship with him for a day, a night, a week, a year, or a lifetime he couldn't guess. All he could do was demonstrate his desire to have her in his life in such a way that she would have no cause to push him away.

Jean-Luc checked the chronometer one last time and, pleased he'd made it to the end of his shift, recycled his empty tea cup and exited his ready room.


	5. Chapter 5

Beverly waited until her chronometer read 1959 hours before stepping out of her quarters and making her way to the turbolift and then along the corridor to Jean-Luc's. She ignored the appreciative glance given her by Lt. Alvarez as he passed her in the opposite direction and continued her silent countdown.

At precisely 2000 hours she pressed the door chime.

She slowed her breathing and tried to bring her heart rate under control. How many times had one or the other performed this very same ritual? She'd lost count of the diplomatic dinners, performances, and other engagements they'd attended together over the years. Whether he met her at her quarters, or she at his, it had always seemed as nothing; just two friends supporting one another through an enjoyable, albeit sometimes tedious, evening.

If her tripping pulse was to be believed, this time it most definitely wasn't nothing.

The doors to his quarters opened and Beverly watched Jean-Luc mask his surprise at seeing her in civilian attire. He let his gaze wander up and down her frame, starting and ending with her eyes. She blushed under the scrutiny and gave up on slowing her pulse. Now that she'd made an overture allowing them to step beyond the line of platonic friendship, he'd obviously decided to drop the pretense of only appreciating her intellect.

"You look magnificent," Jean-Luc said as he stepped into the corridor.

Beverly ran an appreciative eye up and down his form, noting the wrinkle-free uniform and freshly polished boots. She hadn't been the only one to take extra care with her appearance, and as he stepped closer she detected the scent of the sonic shower and recently-applied aftershave.

"And you look quite dashing," she replied.

"Shall we?" he asked, gesturing toward the nearest turbolift.

Beverly nodded.

They began to stroll along the corridor in a semi-companionable, yet also semi-awkward silence.

She searched for a topic to start them off with, but Jean-Luc beat her to the punch.

"I must confess I was surprised to hear my door chime at precisely 2000 hours," Jean-Luc said as they rounded the corner and approached the turbolift.

Beverly smiled and held her hands up in a gesture of surrender. "I searched and searched, but I'm afraid there was a dearth of spatial anomalies and unscrupulous aliens today."

His eye crinkled as he smiled at her joke. "Oh, I didn't think you'd stand me up," he replied as he gestured for her to precede him into the lift. "Rather, I was remarking on how you were actually on time."

Beverly rolled her eyes.

"It's not fair," she said, pretending to protest. "You and the rest of the senior crew have to walk, what, twenty-five feet from the bridge to the observation lounge. I have to hoof it all the way from Sickbay."

"Deck ten," Jean-Luc stated as the doors closed behind them. "Geordi comes from engineering, and he's never once been late."

"Yes, well the warp engines don't go into cardiac arrest, or launch spores, or require nano-surgery whenever they feel like it. He has a predictable maintenance schedule. My patients do not."

The doors of the lift opened and Beverly stepped out. Jean-Luc followed her and quickly matched her strides.

"I'm not criticizing, Doctor," Jean-Luc said, speaking softly as they walked along the busier corridor. "If I found fault with your attendance at meetings, I would have said something years ago."

Beverly gave him a sideways glance.

"But," he continued, "had I known you were, indeed, capable of a timely arrival, I would have asked you to join me as my date to the senior officers' meetings years ago and saved the entire crew hours of waiting."

Beverly's jaw dropped in shock and she shook her head, grinning.

Jean-Luc added, his lips quirking in a hint of a mischievous smile, "Those meetings are far more pleasant than some of the banquets we've been forced to attend. I can think of worse suggestions for a date."

Beverly opened her mouth to reply, but the doors to Ten Forward opened and they were swept into the crowd. She didn't mind the forced mingling as the orchestra warmed up on the stage set in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows. The Xarses nebula was the perfect backdrop for the music scheduled to be performed, and an acceptable litmus test to gauge her comfort-level with the reality of dating Jean-Luc.

After exchanging pleasantries with members of the crew and ordering drinks at the bar, Beverly allowed Jean-Luc to lead her toward two chairs in the front row. She nodded her thanks as he held her drink and waited for her to settle herself before taking the chair beside her.

She took her drink and sipped it before continuing their earlier conversation. "I do hope you'll come up with a better suggestion for a date. I highly doubt my commanding officer would approve of one of his senior officers engaging in 'displays of affection' on the conference room table."

Jean-Luc nearly choked on his drink and Beverly bit her lip to keep from laughing. He blushed furiously and tugged on the collar of his uniform before clearing his throat and leaning in to reply.

"You're quite right, Doctor," he whispered. His words tickled her ear and she suppressed a shiver.

He paused, and Beverly expected him to shift back into his seat. When he didn't move, she turned to meet his gaze. Her stomach threatened to go into freefall as she was swept up in the joy, intelligence, and humour in his eyes.

"Perhaps I should suggest my ready room," he conceded, never taking his eyes from hers. "The door locks and there's a _sofa_."

He arched his eyebrow knowingly and then shifted so he sat facing the stage.

Beverly inhaled as a rush of heat swept up from her feet and threatened to consume her. She brought her drink to her lips and held the glass against them to help steady her trembling fingers.

She sighed as a delicious rush of anticipation flowed through her.

 _Jean-Luc Picard really was a flirt!_

Sure, Jack and Walker had described him as such on many occasions, but she'd never seen that side of him. He'd always been reserved and almost guarded around her. In fact, she'd begun to tease him in those early days simply to see if she could find the rogue her friends accused him of being.

And now, now that she'd taken the restraints off their friendship, she was finally seeing the man behind the mask. A man who was proving himself to be more than a match for her teasing.

She arched an eyebrow and studied his profile before turning her attention to Data and the rest of the orchestra. Her cheeks warmed as she wondered if he were, perhaps, her match in other areas as well.


	6. Chapter 6

Jean-Luc allowed himself to relax against the back of his chair and relished the moment. The nebula behind the stage continued to call to the explorer in him, and the music of the orchestra inspired the artist within. However, it was the ability to tease and flirt with the woman beside him—her permission tacitly given—that made him want to grin like the cat who'd swallowed the canary.

Holding his roguish wit in check had become habit once he'd realized his feelings for her went beyond simple infatuation. As willing as he'd been in his younger days to seduce a woman, his moral compass would never let him make a pass at his friend's wife. And he couldn't tease—even in friendly jest—for fear of accidentally revealing his deeper feelings for her.

He'd vowed never to let her know how he felt, and the sacrifice had been his ability to banter about anything other than the most banal things.

 _But now_ , he thought, recalling their breakfast conversation. _Now things were different_.

Jean-Luc sighed in near bliss.

His decades of being the straight man for her double entendres was finally over. For once he was going to give as good as he got.

In fact, if he got nothing else out of their first date beyond making inroads on the thirty years of teasing she'd subjected him to, he'd count it as a night well spent.

Jean-Luc's eyes wandered from the orchestra and over the black leggings covering her lean dancer's legs. His gaze traveled up, briefly caressing her breasts before settling on the exposed skin of her right shoulder.

 _Of course_ , he admitted to himself, _there were other ways of defining a night well spent_.

He leaned in toward her right ear, ostensibly to whisper a comment about the performance, but in reality to breathe in the warmth of her bare skin. Goosebumps peppered her flesh as he brought his lips close to her ear.

"Cold, Doctor?" he whispered, his tone suggesting he believed nothing of the sort.

A fierce blush raced up her neck from under her sweater and he smiled in satisfaction.

"Actually, Captain," Beverly replied, her voice low and breathless. "I seem to be rather warm at the moment."

"Mmm," he whispered, his rich baritone causing another wave of goosebumps to appear. "I don't believe the temperature controls are malfunctioning. Something else must be causing your, erm, heat. If there's anything I can do to help, I trust you'll let me know."

Beverly cast him a sidelong glance and whispered, "You're doing quite enough already, Captain."

"Oh no, my dear Doctor," he replied, pitching his voice so low as to almost be felt rather than heard. "I have barely begun."

Her eyes widened and the faint blush tinting her skin darkened.

Yes, he was going to enjoy this evening very, _very_ much.


	7. Chapter 7

Beverly stood and applauded at the end of the performance. Data and his fellow musicians took their bows; all but the android looking exhausted yet ebullient. The crowd in Ten Forward joined her in showing their appreciation for the remarkable concert, but no one made a move to rush forward and extend more personal congratulations.

While the concert wasn't a diplomatic event, there were still ship's traditions that would be followed by her crew. Their captain was in the audience and no one would even think of usurping his prerogative to be the first to offer words of thanks and appreciation.

The audience waited for Jean-Luc to step forward and signal an end to the seated portion of the evening and a shift into the mix and mingling portion.

"Doctor?" he asked. Ever the gentleman, Jean-Luc faced her and gestured for her to accompany him to the foot of the low stage. "Shall we?"

Beverly's smile widened as she took in the happiness in his expression. Her heart skipped a beat knowing she was partly to blame for his cheerful demeanour. She doubted anyone who didn't know him well would notice anything, but to her he seemed more vibrant, more alive.

Jean-Luc placed his hand in the small of her back as she passed him—a move he'd done on many occasions—and she inhaled sharply as the contact sent delicious jolts of electricity up her spine.

They approached the ensemble together.

"A masterful performance," Jean-Luc said, addressing the musicians standing at the edge of the stage.

"Thank you, sir," Data replied.

"It truly was beautiful, Data," Beverly said. "I've never heard you play with such emotion."

"I cannot play with emotion, Doctor," the android replied. "As I do not experience them."

Beverly opened her mouth to explain she'd meant it as an expression, but Data prevented her from speaking by continuing.

"However, I did adjust my playing style this evening."

"Oh?" Jean-Luc asked.

Data nodded. "My research into musicianship indicated audiences react favourably to slight imperfections in play. Those imperfections, when executed correctly, are perceived by listeners to be an emotional interpretation of the piece.

As I cannot play 'by feel', as it were, I opted to use signals from the audience as indicators. I used human facial temperature and colouration to determine when to deviate from the prescribed measure of the piece."

Beverly paled. Given the nature of some of Jean-Luc's quips throughout the evening—and her reactions to them—she hoped Data hadn't been using her as his barometer.

"Well, Data," she said, finding her voice. "I think you can consider your experiment a success. Your playing tonight was extraordinary."

"Indeed," Jean-Luc agreed. He peered behind her and then over his right shoulder before returning his gaze to Data. "If you'll excuse us, Mr. Data, it appears as though we're keeping you from your other well-wishers."

Beverly nodded and turned to head toward the bar and away from the stage. She felt Jean-Luc fall into step on her left and counted the paces until his hand made a reappearance on her back.

She smiled.

Whether this was their first date or their four hundredth, she knew he'd never engage in any overt displays of affection in front of his crew. And, truth be told, she wouldn't want him to. His reputation was almost more important to her than it was to him. She understood morale and senior leadership, and she fully believed it was part of her duty to support her commanding officer and never do anything to cause the crew to question his judgment or leadership.

If he were to attend a public event and appear distracted by her—or any companion—it would cause a ripple of worry. It wasn't fair to Jean-Luc, but it was the reality of being a starship captain. He relied on his crew to trust him implicitly when they were in dire straits, and to earn that unwavering loyalty he had to give them no cause to doubt his focus or motives – even in his off hours.

She and Jean-Luc may decide to view their evening as something other than platonic companionship, but it was in everyone's best interests for them to keep their personal views private.

 _That, and my staff is far too comfortable with teasing their boss_ , Beverly thought wryly. _I'd never hear the end of it if Alyssa caught Jean-Luc mooning over me_.

So, while the tiny gesture wouldn't mean much to anyone else in the room, she knew it was everything he could give – and that made it mean everything to her.

His fingers lightly traced several vertebrae before he removed his hand from her back. Beverly met his eyes and nodded, smiling her understanding and telling him, without words, she understood full well the significance of his touch.

Guinan met them as they reached the bar.

"Captain. Doctor," the ageless bartender said in greeting.

"Guinan," Jean-Luc replied. "Your staff are running themselves ragged tonight."

"They're enjoying themselves, Captain," she replied. "Nothing makes us happier than helping to make an important event more enjoyable for others."

Beverly puzzled over Guinan's choice of words. She'd never belittle the importance of a live performance for the musicians, but it wasn't exactly the signing of a peace treaty between two warring star systems.

Guinan tilted her head and gave Beverly an enigmatic grin before reaching under the bar and pulling out a bottle and two glasses. The El-Aurian poured several ounces of a dark amber liquid into each glass before pushing them toward herself and Jean-Luc.

"What's this?" Jean-Luc asked as he picked up one glass and sniffed the contents.

"A gift, Captain," Guinan replied. "An expression of my happiness for the significance of this evening."

Beverly blushed and then narrowed her eyes. How could Guinan possibly—

"I listen with more than my ears, Doctor, and I hear more than words," Guinan said, seemingly reading her thoughts. "The significance of the insignificant is never lost on those who understand the true importance in life."

Beverly felt her blush deepening and took a sip of the drink to hide her discomfiture. All troubling thoughts about what the bartender knew, or didn't know, fled as the chilled amber liquid exploded in a riot of flavour as it crossed her taste buds.

"Oh, my god," Beverly whispered. "What _is_ this?"

She watched as Jean-Luc took a sip. He closed his eyes as though about to taste a fine wine, but they flew open almost immediately and he alternated his shocked gaze between his glass and Guinan.

"Guinan, this is…" he began, but trailed off, apparently at a loss for words.

Beverly took another sip. The same wash of flavours cascaded across her senses and she marvelled at rich, almost magical taste sensations.

"Ambrosia," Guinan said.

"Ambrosia?" Beverly asked.

The bartender nodded.

"It truly is a drink fit for the gods," Jean-Luc murmured before taking another sip.

"A gift for overcoming a hurdle far greater than anything Heracles faced," Guinan replied.

There was no way Guinan could be referring to anything other than Beverly's decision to shift her relationship with Jean-Luc out of its decades' long orbit and into new territory.

"It wasn't—" Beverly began to protest.

Guinan arched an invisible eyebrow and Beverly found she couldn't finish her sentence. Instead, she offered the woman a small smile of appreciation and raised her glass in silent toast.

Beverly turned to Jean-Luc and spoke, her voice low, "To the significance of the insignificant."

Jean-Luc's eyes glittered as he acknowledged the toast and drained his glass.

"I don't know about you, Doctor," he said, his voice like velvet. "But I think I could use a walk to clear my head. Would you care to accompany me?"

Beverly finished off her drink and set her glass on the bar. "I would love to."

Jean-Luc turned to face Guinan. "Thank you, Guinan. That was an incredibly generous gift."

Guinan nodded her head, accepting his gratitude.

"Shall we?" Jean-Luc asked as he raised his arm and gestured toward the doors leading into the corridor.

A deep rush of attraction flooded Beverly's veins and she had to swallow to keep it at bay. Suddenly she wanted nothing more than to get Jean-Luc alone.

"Yes, please," she said.

 _Yes, yes, please_.


	8. Chapter 8

Jean-Luc strolled arm-in-arm with Beverly as they made their way slowly along the exterior corridor of deck seven.

At first, he'd been at a loss as where to suggest they go as they departed the lounge: one or the other's quarters seemed too intimate, too soon, the arboretum seemed trite and clichéd, and they'd just come from Ten Forward.

It was as they walked toward the turbolift that he caught her sneak one last peek at the nebula beyond the exterior viewport.

"Stunning isn't it?" he'd whispered.

She'd blushed. "Breathtaking."

He'd contemplated mentioning the same could be said of her but decided to let her set the pace of their flirting for the remainder of the evening. It was, after all, her suggestion they go on a date.

"I spent almost my entire shift gazing at it, and not once did I grow tired of its majesty," he'd murmured.

"I spent my entire shift gazing at biobeds, computer scanners, and beige walls," she'd replied.

He'd arched an eyebrow in surprise at the envy tinging her voice.

"There aren't any windows in Sickbay, Jean-Luc," she'd added, rolling her eyes.

And that's when it occurred to him. They'd entered the turbolift and he'd called out, "Deck seven."

Designed as a main thoroughfare for the civilians on board—and rarely utilized by on-duty crew—the exterior portion of the deck didn't contain crew quarters, but rather presented travelers with an open, spacious promenade with clustered seating, shops, miniature gardens, and wide windows overlooking the vastness of space. One could walk the entire perimeter of the saucer section (minus a small divot due to the star drive) and witness a near 360-degree view of whatever lay beyond the ship.

He knew he'd made the perfect decision when they stepped out of the lift and the entire starboard side of the corridor shimmered in hues of green and indigo. He'd watched as her eyes lit up at the spectacle, and he'd had to keep from chuckling as she seemed to forget all about him as she made a beeline to the nearest window.

He needn't have worried though. As soon as he reached her side she'd grabbed his arm with both her hands and pressed herself against him – a gesture as close to a tight hug as either would allow in public.

"Oh, Jean-Luc," she'd whispered.

He'd placed his right hand over her hands where they squeezed his bicep—her skin deliciously soft and cool to the touch—and shifted her grip until her right arm was nestled in the crook of his left. He'd then begun their slow circuit of the ship.

He watched, content to study the play of colour and shadow across her features, as she gazed out the windows. He'd always found her auburn hair and high cheekbones attractive, but it was her eyes that threatened to steal his breath away. The blue matched the rich shade of her uniform—thankfully discarded in favour of a sweater he adored—but it was the wit and intelligence sparkling within her eyes he found absolutely entrancing.

They could walk the same corridor for hours and he'd never grow tired of studying her.

"Jean-Luc," Beverly said, keeping gaze out the window and her voice low despite the relative solitude. "You're staring."

"Mmm," he replied. "There's much to be said for the view."

He felt her muscles tense against his arm as she blushed under the weight of his direct gaze. He grinned as she bit her lip before almost reluctantly turning her own gaze away from the nebula and onto him.

He watched as whatever she'd intended on saying died on her lips. She studied his face and let out a soft gasp.

"What?" he asked, concerned.

She shook her head and replied, "Nothing." She lowered her gaze—and he marvelled at the length of her eyelashes—before meeting his eyes again, this time staring unabashedly in return. "It's just, I can see the nebula reflected in your eyes."

She released his arm and turned to fully face him. He stared, transfixed, as she drew closer and closer without seeming to move at all. They were standing nearly nose to nose—far too close for such a public location—and he knew he should say something, or move, or both but, damn him, he couldn't pull himself out from the depths of her eyes.

He could feel the heat of her body as they stood not quite touching. Her breath whispered across his lips and he wondered, not for the first time, if it were possible to become intoxicated from her very presence. He held onto his equilibrium by a bare thread; both wanting to close the final few millimeters and needing to maintain a sense of decorum.

She licked her lips as she glanced at his and he stifled a low groan. Five, maybe six, millimeters were all that separated them. He'd barely have to move.

He held himself perfectly still.

She drew her gaze back to his eyes and whispered, "I want to kiss you."

Never in all his years had he heard anything so agonizingly wonderful. Had he been any other man, or had they been anywhere other than on his damned ship, he would have leaned in and kissed her until neither could stand.

Her eyes glittered mischievously as she stepped back, putting inches instead of millimeters between them. He exhaled, suddenly aware of a need for oxygen.

She grinned, obviously aware of the spell she'd wrapped around him.

"Not here," she murmured. She took his arm again and tugged him into motion. "How about I walk you back to your quarters and you invite me in for a nightcap?"

Jean-Luc's stomach simultaneously plummeted to his knees and leapt into his throat. His pulse pounded in his ears as though he'd just finished a run, and he was certain she could hear it too.

"That sounds like an excellent plan," he replied.

He gave himself a mental pat on the back for keeping his voice calm and resonant. Every sense in his body was on high alert and he'd half expected his voice to crack under the strain.

 _I wonder how swiftly we can walk without attracting undue attention_ , he wondered as he guided them unerringly toward the nearest turbolift.


End file.
